


The Seduction of Agent Bering

by seriousfic



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:38:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best thing about the 21st century, Helena thinks, is that the women are so much looser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seduction of Agent Bering

Myka had to restrain herself from bopping around as she showed Helena her room. She felt like she was in the best of all possible worlds. MacPherson had done his damnedest, but it’d blown up in his face. Helena had turned around and proven herself an invaluable ally. One of the greatest minds of her century was coming back to work at the Warehouse. And while she loved Pete and Claudia, Helena was a woman her own age, someone that valued the same things she did. Professionalism, knowledge, maturity, and caution. It’d be so good to just take a break from everyone else and their quirks. Claudia would call them BFFs.  
  
“Myka?” Helena was saying, gently jostling Myka from her reverie. She’d taken her boots off, left neatly beside the door. Even her toes were elegant.   
  
“I’m sorry, what was that?”  
  
Helena smiled graciously. “I was just asking where the hamper was. You do still place dirty clothes in the hamper?”  
  
“Oh. Yes. Over here,” Myka said, opening the closet door, and felt an overstated sense of shock when Helena, already curvy with her jacket hanging from the hall tree, stripped off her dress shirt and revealed herself to be outright voluptuous. Her tanktop seemed a size too small at the cleavage, but fit her taut stomach like a second skin.   
  
“It doesn’t get chilly, does it?” Helena asked, looking down at her clothes. “I prefer feeling the sun on my bare skin. There were a lot of windows in my old home.”  
  
Myka imagined Helena being a very good neighbor. “No, it’s—I mean, the thermostat is in the bedroom.”  
  
“Aces,” Helena declared, following her in.  
  
Trying to respect Helena both as a scientific genius and as a woman who’d missed the last hundred years, Myka gave her a quick run-through of the thermostat’s workings. Helena stood close to Myka, taking it all in with a good student’s look of utmost concentration. Myka had to hold back a grin at seeing it in someone other than herself.   
  
And if Helena was standing close to her, well, she was from the 19th century. Obviously, people were just looser about personal space back then.  
  
“And that’s everything you need to know about the thermostat,” Myka concluded, feeling like she’d just given an A+ classroom presentation.  
  
Helena nodded appreciatively, actually  _beaming._  Myka felt a sudden urge to kiss her. Just… once… find out what those stunning lips felt like.  
  
Which was weird, because she wasn’t gay. Sure, she’d experimented in college, but she’d also thought Communism was the best system of government. It was _college_.  
  
“Oh!” Helena said, looking behind her. “Is that the bed?”  
  
“Yes!” Myka was grateful for the subject change. “It’s queen-sized. Fit for a queen… you might say…”  
  
Helena, blessedly, seemed not to have heard her attempt at humor. “That’s odd,” she said, stepping up to it. “Has the design changed much in the last century?”  
  
“I don’t think so. It’s not a Posturepedic or anything, why?”  
  
Helena looked the bed up and down. “Well, I can’t seem to figure how one gets into it.”  
  
“Oh, that’s simple.” Myka circled to the other side of the bed. “You just pull the bedspread back…” Myka demonstrated.  
  
“Mmm-hmm.”  
  
“And then the sheets.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Then you just lie down,” Myka finished, still demonstrating.  
  
“Ah. Like this?” Helena asked, replicating Myka’s feat.  
  
“Yeah, you’ve got it.”  
  
“Mmm.” Helena laid in bed beside Myka, who suddenly realized she was in bed with H.G. Wells.  
  
It wasn’t gay. She’d slept in the same bed with lots of girls, as a girl. She’d also thought magical ponies were the best system of government. She was  _a girl._  
  
“This is a very comfortable bed, Agent Bering.”  
  
“Oh, yeah. Leena prides herself on everything being very… comfy.”  
  
“And I do feel comfortable.” Helena turned on her side, facing Myka, seeming to rise over her. “Do you?”  
  
“Yeah. Lying in bed with a girl. It’s great!” Myka said with a bit too much cheer.  
  
“I don’t make you uncomfortable?” Helena reached over to pull Myka’s bedsheet a little higher up her chest. Despite it covering her up more, Myka felt like she was in an even more intimate situation with Helena. Like she’d just stopped wearing panties or something. “Nervous?” Helena asked, directly into Myka’s ear.  
  
“No, of course not, why would you?”  
  
“Good. Because I have something of a personal question for you.”  
  
Myka nodded fitfully. “Alright.”  
  
“I was wondering how people made love in the 21st century,” Helena drawled.  
  
Myka actually gasped. Helena, unable to hold back any longer as well, restrained herself to a fond kiss on Myka’s cheek. Myka blushed in a blend of mortification and arousal.  _This_  she hadn’t done in college.  
  
“Because in the 19th century—” Helena permitted herself another kiss to Myka’s cheek, closer to her lips. “We kissed first.” She pressed her lips to the corner of Myka’s. “We kissed a lot.”  
  
Myka was speechless as Helena moved over her, straddling her, a completely different woman now. The picture of poise had disappeared. Her chest was glistening with sweat and her nipples were further stretching the overburdened tanktop. The lack of a bra was so obvious it left Myka breathless.  
  
“Then we undressed,” Helena said, stripping off the tanktop. With a rakish grin, she flipped it onto the floor. “Do you like undressing?”  
  
Myka was biting her lip too hard to answer, so she just nodded.  
  
“You do? Because I prefer kissing.” Reaching down to cup Myka’s face, Helena slipped her thumb into Myka’s mouth to pry her lips apart, an opening for her kiss to slip through. Myka vibrated with pleasure, even when Helena was done, her lips staying within inches of Myka’s like she couldn’t bear to part them any further. “In my time, we kissed what we thought was beautiful.”  
  
Helena couldn’t kiss Myka again—she was fearful she’d lose herself in it, reduce their first encounter to nothing more than a series of kisses and what gropes they could manage in-between—so she simply licked Myka’s mouth before proceeding lower. Her questing fingers found the top button of Myka’s dress shirt, already undone, and pulled the hem as far open as possible to kiss Myka’s neck. She felt Myka’s pulse thunder against her lips.   
  
Helena’s fingers hurriedly went lower, to undo the next button in line. And the next, and the next. “But all of you is so beautiful. Your neck. Your skin. Your breasts…” Helena had opened enough buttons to pull Myka’s shirt open and find the most sumptuous pair of breasts imaginable, perfectly previewed by the black bra that held them. Helena kissed them through the lace cups, feeling Myka’s nipples rise to meet her. “How does 21st century underwear work, Myka? I’ve been going without myself…”  
  
Myka frantically reached behind and under her shirt, almost ripping it as she struggled to get at the clasp, finally opening it and barely pulling the bra away before Helena had a nipple in her mouth, biting it so hard and yet there was barely any pain, just pleasure racing through Myka’s body.   
  
“ _Fuck!_ ” The word shot out of Myka’s mouth, unfamiliar and crude. She didn’t have anything against obscene language, it’d just been weeks since she’d felt compelled to use it.  
  
Helena brought her hand to Myka’s other breast and squeezed.  
  
Helena could be quite compelling, Myka thought.  
  
Myka writhed shamelessly as Helena’s tongue trailed up and down her torso, sliding over her breasts but not staying there, stirring up too much pleasure to take. Her nipples tingled with obscene pleasure every time Helena touched them, and it lingered as Helena moved down to tongue her belly button. Before even a minute had gone by, Myka’s body was on fire.  
  
And Helena left her that way, rising up again to look down and see Myka with saliva trailing over her body, her hair disheveled and her make-up starting to smear. A picture of wanton depravity.  
  
Helena smiled. It made her feel like she’d seduced a snooty Victorian lady out of her corset and petticoats. But Myka wasn’t like that, a conquest. She was an equal partner. Someone who could give as much pleasure as could be taken from her.  
  
But that was later. For now, Helena was in charge. She popped open Myka’s belt.  
  
“Oh my god,” Myka whimpered.  
  
“We kissed what’s beautiful,” Helena repeated, her lips making love to each word as it came out. She yanked Myka’s slacks down to mid-thigh, then  _slowly_  removed them from Myka’s long legs. She left them puddle at Myka’s ankles like a pair of manacles, a very pleasing thought indeed. She had to wonder how accepted riding crops and rope had become.  
  
Myka’s panties were black, utterly boring except for the damp spot right in the middle. That interested Helena very much.  
  
“Is your pussy beautiful?” Helena asked Myka, sneaking her fingers into the waistband. She gave the panties a little tug. “Will I like it?” She pulled a little harder. “Will I kiss it?”  
  
“You fucking better…” Myka moaned, then her eyes popped as if to check whether anyone had heard her.  
  
Helena smiled down at her. “I think I will.”  
  
Myka suddenly felt cool air hit her core. Helena had ripped her panties away as easily as a magician pulling away a tablecloth. Helena’s smile deepened as she traced her finger over the light fuzz, the damp lines of Myka’s folds.  
  
“So beautiful,” she muttered, dipping her finger in.  
  
Myka squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Oh God…”  
  
Helena bent her spine, lowered her head. “As beautiful as the rest of you.”  
  
“God,  _God…_ ”  
  
“Even your arse is beautiful.” Helena dropped down to kiss the curve of Myka’s hip, and that was just too much. Myka grabbed her by the hair and pulled Helena over her pussy, spread her legs to either side of the bed. And Helena winked at her and gave her what she wanted.  
  
“Jesus  _fucking_  Christ!”  
  
Helena pulled back a little to let Myka process what’d just happened. To appreciate the taste. “Do they do that in the 21st century?”  
  
“Not nearly enough!” Myka gasped. “Oh God, Go—”  
  
Before Myka could finish her litany, Helena ran her tongue over Myka’s sex again. Not with her usual verve and speed, but slowly, almost tauntingly, pulling her tongue from Myka’s perineum to just short of her clit.   
  
“Gawd!”  
  
“I know I’m good,” Helena smirked. “But I don’t know if I’m worthy of worship.”  
  
Helena joked, but she was. Myka couldn’t see her as anything but a goddess, beautiful and terrible, the height of sophistication and the basest of primal urges. Helena never slowed or sped, she kept licking along Myka’s sex, getting it wetter and wetter but never touching her clit. The need there had risen to a painful level. Every thorough tonguing was like a lightning bolt striking Myka, each strike longer and longer, her body slipping further and further out of her control.  
  
Then Helena stopped. “Do you know what’s really beautiful?” she asked, and Myka was so wet she could feel the breeze of Helena’s words on her cunt.  
  
“Oh… God… Helena…”  
  
Helena gently pulled the hood of Myka’s clit out of the way. Myka begged for mercy in nonsense words. “Your face as I make you come.” She kissed her clit and Myka felt absolutely nothing but the force of that kiss, the soft-warm-holy touch of Helena on her most hidden place.   
  
Myka came, floating off the bed and through the roof, into the clouds and into space where it wasn’t cold at all, the starlight prickled her body with a thousand pleasures and she kept  _going_ , higher and higher into the sun, and like the burning bush she was set on fire but didn’t turn to ash, she just burned brighter until the goddess smiled upon her and she was plunged into the ocean, the perfect cool water extinguishing her flame and depositing her on a beach, safe and sound with Helena smiling down at her.  
  
“I daresay you enjoyed that,” Helena quipped.  
  
Myka tried to reply and found it a little hard to breath. “It’s been a… long time… since that’s… happened to me.”  
  
“Well, I’ve been on a dry spell for over a century. How do you think I feel?” Helena licked her lips. “Besides… thirsty.”  
  
“Fuck, Helena. Shit.” Helena grinned at Myka’s profanity. “You can’t do  _that_  and then just… imply additional  _stuff._  This is America. We don’t take kindly to threats.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t make threats, dear Myka. I make promises.” Helena pulled Myka close, wrapping them both up in the sheets like ghosts. “Sleepy?”  
  
“I’m in good shape, really, you just… whoa. That was really whoa.”  
  
“Rest. It’s the end of the workday anyway. Nothing to do, nothing to be done. Spend the evening in my garden of delights.”  
  
Myka smiled, eyes closed. “You planned this.”  
  
“Yes. But don’t think getting into bed with you for any reason wouldn’t drive one to lustful extremes. I was counting on it.”  
  
Myka yawned.  
  
“Stay with me,” Helena said, her voice losing some of its silky draw as she wrapped her arms possessively around Myka. “I’ve slept alone far too many nights.”  
  
***  
  
 _What have I done?_  
  
Myka woke up in the middle of the night. Helena had slipped away from her, onto her side of the bed, but a hand was still outstretched, ensconced in Myka’s curls. Myka eased herself away like it was a snake.  
  
She barely knew Helena! She was a potential threat, a co-worker, a  _woman_  for Christ’s sake! And Myka had just—spread for her like a screening of Showgirls! And Sam was still—it was too soon. She should’ve taken things slow. What if people found out? They might accept her and Helena, but on Helena’s first goddamn night in the B&B? Oh God. This was bad. Bad-bad-bad.  
  
Myka slipped out of bed to gather up her clothes, which Helena had divested her of in the night ( _God_ , had they done it  _again?_ ). She nearly had a heart attack when Helena spoke.  
  
“It’s alright, Myka. Most people are… unsure of how to proceed from here. I don’t hold this against you.”  
  
“Thanks,” Myka said, but Helena had her eyes closed, and was sliding her hand under her pillow instead of in Myka’s hair.  
  
“Your panties are under the bed. Sorry. Talk in morning.”  
  
***  
  
They didn’t. Myka told herself it was just a coincidence, but she got to the Warehouse before Helena even woke up. Every Artifact she catalogued seemed to have something to do with love goddesses or Lesbos, and a disturbing amount of them had naked women somewhere in their design. When had she traded assignments with Pete?  
  
And it didn’t take long before she remembered she and Helena  _had_  done it again. And it’d been even better, faster and more passionate and even a little bit rougher, then slowly coming down from the peak they’d ascended so furiously, everything soft and warm.   
  
Then Helena arrived. “Sorry, everyone, late start. I had a busy night. What’s on the agenda today? Damsels in distress? Mad scientists? Doomsday machines?”  
  
“Paperwork,” Claudia called.  
  
“Oh, phoo, I always thought we’d have eliminated that along with other social ills.”  
  
“We did cure polio.”  
  
“Ehhh.”  
  
Myka laid down her new catalog on Artie’s desk. “HG, could I talk to you in private for a moment?”  
  
“Certainly.”  
  
One of the benefits of working in the Death Star’s little brother was that there were no shortage of privacy. Three lefts and four rights later, they were in a small storage room full of Tesla holsters.   
  
“Did I do something wrong?” Helena asked, showing more concern now that they were alone. “I… I really didn’t mean to offend you in any way. I had a good time last night, and if I did something to hurt you—”  
  
“It’s not that,” Myka said. She shoved Helena against the wall. “I just wanted to show you how we have sex in the 21st century.”


End file.
